


Blood and Ember

by Avourellion



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26742106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avourellion/pseuds/Avourellion
Summary: Christopher Morning was born into the Iron Tower, but he never had that same spark of magic - quintessence, they called it. Freed at the age of ten and given a new name - Christopher Wolfe - he went on to graduate the Library's training with a gold band and a reputation as one of the brightest minds the Library had ever seen. Along the way, he met and fell in love with fellow postulant Niccolo Santi, and the two of them were responsible for the group of young adults who were responsible for the fall of the Library as they knew it. Together, Christopher, Nic, and their remarkable children rebuilt the world.This is the story of how they did it.((No, I don't promise anything that even vaguely resembles a regular update schedule))
Relationships: Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be subject to frequent updates, it's gonna be the visible part of my workspace. It's often nice to just be able to post stuff for y'all to help with, especially with a big project. Right now there's not much here but I promise I'm going to add a whole bunch to it.

As I've said... this certainly isn't going to be updated on a regular basis, none of my things will be, but this more than others. You might get three updates in a week, you might not get any updates for a year. Either way, I'm super excited to write this, because for once I have a long, thought-out idea for a lengthy fic, more than a couple of chapters.

This is going to be a story, told from Wolfe's perspective (and Santi's, later on) detailing the entire time from the moment he left the Iron Tower to when he was given a class of students. Be prepared for a whole ton of OCs, since as far as I can remember, Litterae Magnus Carole Vargas is the only other member of Chris's postulant class we know by name.

This is only _partly_ taking Stormcrow as canon. In this fic, Chris and Nic were in the same class together, seeing as I'd like to write their relationship more before Rome, and I feel I can do that better having them start as students together, and I want Nic to be the one who really starts introducing him to the real world, even though they meet six (seven?) years after he's left the Iron Tower.

I owe Ros and Mazeem everything for their incredible timeline, I'll be using that to every extent possible. This is the only fandom (save for Tolkien) that I've found such a complete and detailed timeline for? If you haven't read it, it's located [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143462/chapters/47722252), and you really ought to go check it out, I can't sing its praises enough. Those two are the meta experts and they're amazing.

As of the moment, there are no tags, seeing as it's 2 in the morning and I have no caffeine in my system. I need coffee before I try to tag, that's the hardest part imao.

**Questions I Have ((hoping y'all can help answer some of them, though for the most part they're not terribly important))**

\- We know for sure Santi is right-handed or ambidextrous, the latter probably being more likely. Jess says as much in I&B when he's chasing Santi. Do we know about Christopher? Also likely right-handed. _Answer: Never explicitly stated_

\- Which hand do they each wear their bands on? I assume Nic's left hand because he usually seems to have a gun in his right, making his left more accessible for presenting to automata and for scanning on locks and stuff. Chris, for the same reason of convenience, wears his on his right hand. _Answer: Never explicitly stated._

\- Did Santi enter the Garda as a lieutenant? By Chris's guess, he's 18/19 in Stormcrow and not yet a captain. I'm not sure if the two/three years between him graduating and when Stormcrow takes place are enough for him to get promoted to lieutenant or if he already was one. Perhaps a gold band for the Garda is instantly a lieutenant, since gold bands seem to be quite rare? _Answer: Based on Jess and Glain's bands and ranks, it makes sense for a gold band to be a lieutenant. Likely a lower-ranking one, as there appear to be several ranks of_ _lieutenants_

\- Carole Vargas is the only other named member of their class that I can recall, are there any others? _Answer: No one else is named_

\- Was Keria Morning the Obscurist Magnus before Christopher was released, or did she not take the role until after he'd left the Tower? _Answer: Either, depends on how much we take Caine's wattpad shorts as canon_

\- I'm just gonna say that his name was Christopher Morning, because it sounds cool. It was changed to Wolfe at the orphanage. Do we know if this is in any way accurate? _Answer: Depends on how much we take Caine's wattpad shorts as canon. Much more likely to have been Morning over Eskander's surname, Pallis_

\- So I also just finished the I&B audiobook. It reminded me to ask... do you pronounce Niccolo as NIC-o-lo, rhymes with piccolo, or ni-CO-lo? I've always said it the second way but the audiobook pronounced it the first, and honestly I have no clue? ((But you also can't trust audiobooks cause in the Silmarillion, Iluvatar, and several other names, were all pronounced completely wrong)). _Answer, taken directly from Maz's comment:_

> _Ancient Greek origin of Niccolo, which is Νῑκόλᾱος (Nīkólāos) has the stress on the second syllable. So Wolfe might pronounce the "Nico" bit that way, which be fun for you if you want Santi to insist on proper pronunciation or whatever._
> 
> _further rambling: turns out I didn't need to Google thaaaat much I just needed to check diacritics. In its proper Italian form, Niccolò has a grave accent over the 'o' which indicates that it's the stressed syllable._
> 
> _But again, you can fuck around with this as you please, Caine hasn't spelt it with a diacritic._

\- Chris was most likely in the Artifex branch, right?

\- What sort of research exactly would a Research Scholar do?

**A List Of OCs Involved At The Moment ~~(also very incomplete and _very_ subject to change)~~**

\- Captain Emery Faliq: Arab-American man, gold band High Garda

\- Lieutenant Tsveta Kostova: female, silver band High Garda

\- Asmaa Khouri: female, silver band Scholar

\- Abasi Safar: male, head of Chris's orphanage

\- Xiang Jia: female, fellow postulant

**On Their Final Exam**

\- Postulants take a final field exam; Austria? French rebellion?

\- "'What I remember is that you didn't hesitate to send me into a trap when it benefited you. I nearly died.' 'It did benefit me,' the Artifex acknowledged. "And you, as it turned out. You came out of it covered in glory and with a Scholar's gold band. Do you think that happened by accident?'" S&I, page 153. Wolfe and the Artifex. All we know about their final field exam, if that's even what it's referring to. I assume so?

**And Basically All My Random Notes**

\- All the kids keep mint tea in their various residences for whenever Wolfe comes to visit

\- "'We aren't friends. You don't have the right.' 'We were. Once. Long ago. You remember. I was a mentor to you.'" S&I, page 153. Wolfe and the Artifex. Mentor as in teacher, like Chris to the kids, or a less literal mentor?

\- Only Wolfe uses the dismissal lottery (In I&B Jess notices that they're well worn as though lots of people have used them, we're disregarding that fact. Students get dismissed for more 'legitimate' reasons than pure chance)

\- On the topic of appearances. I usually never agree with the official fanart for... basically anything. This fandom is the exception though? I quite like the official stuff for Santi, Wolfe, Jess, and Glain. The others are okay... don't really like Morgan's or Anit's. Dario and Khalila's are good. Still, Santi's is the best. This fandom needs more art and I'm definitely not a good artist. I've seen a grand total of about five different pieces and... that's it, so if anyone has anything new do share

\- P&F page 113. Troll says Wolfe and Santi knew his father. "I've known Captain Santi a long time. He and my father were friends back in training. After my father died, he and Wolfe made sure I had a place to live, enough to eat." Postulant training? Santi's secondary Garda training?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In bocca al lupo, dear readers.


	2. ~Ephemera~

**EPHEMERA**

**A series of excerpts from the personal journal of Obscurist Keria Morning on the topic of her son, Christopher Morning. Not available in the archive.**

_I always knew that Christopher did not have the gift, somehow. Our genetics dictate that more often than not, the child of an Obscurist will inherit that same genetic ability, though as with everything, there are exceptions to the rule._

_I suppose it was a disappointment to my fellows. It's common knowledge that Eskander is the greatest of us; even Gregory will admit it. And forgive me when I say I'm not far below him. It was expected that we would pass on our power to an even more exceptional child, and then Christopher was born._

_I loved him before I even saw him. He was perfect in every way, though every mother will say that about her children. He has my eyes, but his face is nearly the mirror image of Eskander himself. He's four as I'm writing this, a beautiful child, running in the courtyard chasing the insects that somehow make it into the Iron Tower. He rarely manages to catch them, but when he does, he always runs to show his find to me. Christopher is the brightest spot in my life, and I feel more alive watching him than I have ever since Eskander locked himself away._

_Speaking of Eskander, I have not seen him in two years now. I visited him once in his isolation, and he turned me away after only a few words. He's changed, and I worry for him. He used to be so kind, so gentle, so full of life, quick to laugh and smile, always ready with a joke or a comforting word. He has become cold and distant, and I am afraid of what will become of him if he keeps himself locked away for much longer. He's been gone for four years now._

_Eskander never even saw his son. Christopher was born eight months and seventeen days from the moment Eskander bid me farewell before vanishing. I counted every day of it. Why, I still don't know. Perhaps I was clinging to some vain hope that Eskander would change his mind, would come back to us. To me. He never did._

* * *

_Christopher is now eight, and the most avid reader I know. He's young, but of course he doesn't let that stop him. I could go on about him - so determined, so brave. He's let his hair grow out to his shoulders after seeing a picture of his father. He reminds me of Eskander more than I can allow myself to let on._

_He should start to show traces of his Obscurist power here in the Iron Tower sooner than any other children born outside it. It is our center of power, after all; the closer Obscurists are to it, the more powerful their abilities become, and the easier it is to manipulate formulae. When I was his age, I was already revealing the formulae in Blanks and other items of alchemical composition. There's a part of me that can't wait for him to first access his abilities, that same restlessness I felt waiting for his first words or his first steps._

_I will tell that to anyone. But there's another part of me that I can only be open about here, trusting in complete privacy._

_I pray that Christopher does not have the gift. The Iron Tower is beautiful, but a gilded cage is still a prison. We are locked in here with hardly a sight of the outside world. We used to be allowed on the roof, so that we may feel the wind and look out over all of Alexandria. But some of us were too sick of being trapped within, and they would rather die than be a slave to the Library any longer. After the fifth suicide in two years, the roof was closed to us. That was twenty-three years ago, and I have not felt the wind since. The Obscurist Magnus is allowed to leave the Tower from time to time. I do not want the position, but he has been training me for it, and those brief moments of freedom would make it all worth it._

* * *

_My hands shake as I write this, and I'm afraid I'll spill my ink and ruin the page. Oh, the irony, to be concerned with something so small as a ruined page after what has happened._

_Christopher Morning is not an Obscurist._

_My son is not an Obscurist._

_Should I laugh or cry? It's too late to decide, as I am already doing both. Putting it down on paper like that makes it seem so real, so utterly final. Christopher is not an Obscurist, and he is being released from the Iron Tower. They're telling me that they will put him in an orphanage until he turns sixteen, and then they will give him the choice of joining a postulant class at the Library, or leaving to choose his own path in life. He's a legacy, born to two gold-banded members of the Library. That's what they call us. Gold bands, as if a bracelet around your wrist and a collar locked around your neck could possibly be the same thing. I'm glad Christopher will never have to feel a collar locking shut around his neck._

_My son gets to be free. To the others, I must be sad, disappointed that he didn't turn out a powerful Obscurist like ~~Eskander~~ myself. Inside, I feel such joy, and I am so proud of him, in such a backwards way. Even though I am trapped here forever, Chris gets to be free to live his own life, and freedom is all that I could possibly want for my son._

_Some people are brief flashes of light, small flames that are soon extingushed. But Christopher is no quick-burning spark. He is a torch, a flaming lantern, against the night, and he will not be silenced, or locked up, or broken down._

_My son is free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But there's another part of me that I can only be open about here, trusting in complete privacy."  
> According to Wolfe in I&B, personal journals only started being regularly monitored after his arrest, but correct me if I'm wrong.


	3. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow look at me, another update the next day. I wonder how long we can keep this up lol

He was reading when they came for him.

His closet was set into the wall and took up the entire space, floor to ceiling, with three shelves. Christopher had moved everything from the top shelf - it wasn't like he had much in the closet anyway - and filled it with blankets and pillows to create a space he could lie in and read. With the curtains drawn shut across it, the shelf was a perfect hiding place.

It couldn't hide him today, though. Ever since the test last week, he'd known that they would be coming for him soon. His mother had sat him down and explained everything years ago. If he had the gift, he stayed. If not, he'd put the Iron Tower behind him. 

Christopher turned another page of his book. The Obscurists were allowed more originals than any other scholars, on account of them handling them for archiving, and the fact that none of the books could leave the Iron Tower, on top of all the High Garda that could monitor them. The one he was reading now was an original copy of the Discourse On Method. It was, in his mind, terribly dull, but it was one of the last books on his many shelves he'd been trying to get through before he left the Tower. He wouldn't be allowed to take any originals with him, and he wanted to savor the feel of real paper before he had to resign himself to using Blanks for the rest of his life.

He'd grown up speaking the Alexandrian dialect of Greek, but he was able to understand the French of his book nearly as easily. He liked reading in other languages; they challenged him in a way that most other activities didn't. French was the one language he hated _speaking._ He found the best way to pronounce it was to cover half the word, squint, and say the letters you thought you saw. It wasn't far off, since most of the letters seemed to be silent anyway.

There was a knock at his door, and on instinct, Christopher tapped the glow he'd put on the pillow next to him, sending his reading shelf into darkness. 

"Yes?" he called out.

"Christopher," came his mother's voice from beyond the door. "Are you ready for us to come in?"

 _Us._ He suddenly felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he'd be leaving today, but it didn't feel real, not until now.

He pocketed the glow and switched it out for a thin gold bracelet of braided golden wire, sliding it onto his wrist. It wasn't the solid metal of the bracelets of the scholars, but it served much the same purpose. At least it wasn't one of the gold collars the Obscurists wore.

"Yes," he replied. "Come in."

He rolled off the shelf, finding the one beneath it with his bare feet, then jumped off backward, landing on all fours before popping upright. He hadn't tied his hair out of his face this morning and spat some out of his mouth. The original he'd been reading remained up on his shelf.

Keria Morning, looking as dramatic as ever in robes of dark silver silk embroidered with gold alchemical symbols, swept into the room, flanked by two High Garda soldiers. They each wore sharp black and gold uniforms and belts with well-used weapons. Two guns each and several pouches, as well as a long knife for the woman.

"Do you need help with your things?" one of the Garda asked, a tall, black-haired man with a captain's badges on his collar.

Chris shrugged. "I just packed my clothes and a few things I wanted. I don't have much."

At his mother's glare, he added a "Sir." onto the end.

All of the belongings he'd wanted to bring with him were packed up in a backpack. He'd thrown the things he'd need more frequently - his Codex, personal journal, a few glows, writing supplies, and the like, in a more easily accessible satchel that hung by his side.

The captain held out his hand. "I'm Captain Emery Faliq," he said. "This is Lieutenant Tsveta Kostova. We're here to escort you to a new home in Alexandria. Are you ready to go?" His voice sounded vaguely impatient.

 _Alexandria._ Christopher's throat felt dry. Technically, he'd lived in Alexandria his whole life, but he'd only caught glimpses of it from the few narrow windows that looked out on the city. That didn't feel enough to justify it as his home. Faliq was right; Alexandria would be his new home.

He shook Faliq's hand. He had no doubt the man already knew who he was, but he introduced himself anyway. "Christopher Morning."

Looking between the two Garda, he already decided he liked Kostova better. She looked more friendly and cheerful, and her eyes sparkled. "Wonderful to meet you, Christopher," she said with a warm smile. "Is it okay if I call you Chris?"

He nodded. Most people called him that anyway. "Sure."

"Are you excited?" she asked, stooping to pick up his backpack and slide it over her shoulders, bouncing on her toes to settle the pack comfortably.

He glanced at his mother. Would it be a betrayal of her, of the Obscurists he'd grown up with, to say yes? To say that he really was excited to be leaving? They didn't talk too often. She was Obscurist Magnus now, and she was too busy for him more often than not. They'd grown apart and if he was being entirely honest, he didn't feel much more attached to her than he did any of the other Obscurists. It wouldn't feel like a betrayal.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted. It was the truth. The Iron Tower was the only place he'd ever known, and he'd only gotten to experience the outside world through the books he'd read. What was it really like out there?

Kostova put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair. He almost swatted her hand away, but realized at the last moment it felt good, the familiar gesture he used to get from his mother. "Don't worry," she said gently. "The world can be really scary, and I won't try to tell you it's a good place. But it's wonderful and vast and beautiful." She cast a look at Keria. "And free."

Faliq held out Christopher's satchel and he took it. The bag hung on his shoulder, the strap crossing over his chest. "I've already said my goodbyes," he said. "Are we ready to go?"

He itched to leave, to get out of the Tower. He was afraid that if he hesitated any longer, he wouldn't be able to go himself and they'd have to force him to leave.

"If you're ready," Faliq said. Keria put her hand on Chris's shoulder. Together, the four of them left the room. Christopher didn't look back.

There was a lift at the end of the hall. There were three within the Iron Tower, each going part of the way up and down. His room was right in the middle, a floor above the garden, and they only had to use the bottom lift to get to the ground floor. Keria tapped a golden symbol on the wall inside the lift and the doors slid shut, carrying them all the way down to the first level.

There was only one way in and out of the Iron Tower, save for the translation chamber, but that was mainly meant for the transportation of supplies. He'd heard the Garda would sometimes use the translation system in emergencies, though he'd read all about the theory and knew it wasn't a pleasant experience.

The other exit was through a hallway lined with automata. These weren't the regular sphinxes or lions he knew the Serapheums used, but life-sized statues of ancient Egyptian warriors, with wickedly sharp _khopesh_ swords and spiked flails. The eyes of the first set they passed flicked red for a moment until both Faliq and Kostova held up their Library bands. Faliq had a gold one, Christopher noted. Rare, and impressive. There was no need for the automata to scan Christopher or Keria.

They passed through three sets of doors, each sealed with formulae Keria had to disable and relock behind them, as well as several true, solid locks that an Obscurist couldn't disable. They could only be disabled through a series of gears and pistons activated from the final guardroom. Between the automata and the doors, there was no way an Obscurist would be able to escape this way.

Eight High Garda soldiers were waiting in the final room, making a full squad once Faliq and Kostova joined them. One of them saluted Faliq. "This is him, sir?"

"Christopher Morning," Faliq confirmed. "The carriage is ready?"

"Yes, sir."

Kostova turned to him. "It's time to say goodbye to your mother, Chris."

This was the moment he'd been dreading. He turned to her and hugged her tightly. He didn't know what to tell her. What are you supposed to say to your mother, when you'd likely never see her again?

Chris settled for "I'll miss you, mother."

"I know, darling." She stroked his hair, then drew him away to hold him at arm's length. "Write to me as soon as they've got you settled in. I'll keep in touch, understand?"

"I do. I love you." He fidgeted with the zipper on his bag. "I suppose I have to go now."

Keria's smile was infinitely sad. "You do. Be brave, Christopher. I'm glad you get to be free." She gave him a little push toward Faliq. "Be good."

That was the last thing she said to him before Kostova looped a comforting arm around his shoulders, effectively blocking his view of his mother. Two of the other Garda soldiers moved to escort Keria back into the Tower. She wouldn't make a run for it once the doors were open, but they weren't taking any chances.

After what felt like forever, the last set of doors opened. Faliq and Kostova escorted him out of the Tower, past a final set of automata outside, twice as large as the others within. The sun blinded him for a moment, and he threw his hands up over his face. They rarely got direct sunlight inside. Only at high noon did the sun blaze down directly into the courtyard.

Even with the direct sun, it wasn't as hot as he was expecting. The metal of the Tower soaked up the heat, trapping it within and amplifying it. In most rooms, there were complex cooling systems to counter the heating effect, but in rooms without it, and in the garden, it was even warmer inside. He'd gotten used to the heat, having grown up in it, and he was thankful for that. Chris wondered how long the regular Alexandrian heat would be considered cool to him before he adjusted to it. 

The Iron Tower was situated on one a hill overlooking the vast city. To the north was the shimmering aquamarine waters of the harbor. Across the sea of red-tiled roofs, the massive golden pyramid of the Alexandrian Serapheum rose above the city like a massive, hulking monolith. He could also recognize the walled-off High Garda compound and the open fields around the university. Wide streets formed an intricate grid.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Faliq asked.

Chris forced himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful city. "It is," he breathed.

Kostova laughed. "You have a wonderful view from up here. It's a pity there are not more windows for you. I don't see the harm in letting Obscurists see the city." She gestured to a steam carriage on the street in front of them. "Whenever you're ready."

He turned to her, grinning, and shook his head. "Can we walk?"

"Captain?" she asked Faliq. "Your call."

"I don't see why not," the captain replied. Even the corners of his lips twitched up at Christopher's enthusiasm. "It's a long way, but I think you can handle it."

"I can!"

Faliq gestured at the rest of his squad. "Lieutenant Kostova and I can handle this. Head back to the compound, I'll meet you there later. We have a drill tonight."

"Yes, sir," they replied in perfect unison, snapping off a quick salute before forming ranks and marching away, down into the city.

"What sort of drill?" Chris asked, curious.

"Night practice," Kostova said. "It's a battle simulation. Burner attack on a Serapheum, I believe."

"Could that ever happen? In real life, I mean."

"Not likely. Ever since we crushed the last uprising in Russia and arrested most of their leaders, they've been quiet for some time now."

The road began to slope gently down off the hill and into the city. The streets were wide, filled with people going about their lives. Some wore the black robes of Scholars, as only Library servants and their families were allowed within Alexandria, but most were dressed as ordinary civilians. Their casual clothing was strange to him, having grown up with the formal uniforms and robes of the Obscurists and Garda all his life. Chris marveled at the steam carriages and other vehicles that passed them. He'd read all about such contraptions but he'd never had the chance to see them in person. He wondered what it would be like to work on one, taking it apart and seeing what made it work. 

He, Faliq, and Kostova chatted about all manner of topics as they walked, from the Garda training drills to him describing all he knew about formulae. Chris was incredibly grateful that despite his age, the two soldiers treated him like an adult and didn't try to simplify or explain subjects to him like a child.

They finally arrived at a large, two-story building on a side street. The door was set deep back in, with two armlike sections on either side reaching out to the road. Latticework draped with lilac vines formed a slight tunnel away from the sun. The air smelled of the sweet purple flowers.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get you in with a host family," Faliq said. "We would have found somewhere, but it was incredibly short notice. This is Alexandria's best orphanage, though. You'll do well here."

He bit back _but I'm not an orphan._ If there wasn't a family that was willing to take him, this was the only other place to go. Chris's legs burned. He'd ran around the Iron Tower and up and down its many stairs, but that was a different sort of exercise, and he wasn't used to walking so _far._

Faliq took out his Codex and wrote Christopher's name at the top of a blank page, opening a message channel between the two of them. "If you need me, don't hesitate to ask. I'll try to get back to you as soon as I'm able. The same goes for Lieutenant Kostova."

Kostova shrugged off the backpack and handed it over to Chris, who swung it over his own shoulders. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

Before either of them could reply, the door swung open. A short man, head shaved Alexandrian style, strode out. "You're Christopher?" he asked. Sharply, but not unkindly.

"Christopher Morning, sir."

"Morning," the man echoed, then muttered something under his breath Chris didn't catch. "Very well. Thank you for bringing him." The last part was directed to Faliq and Kostova, and a none-too-subtle dismissal.

Neither of the soldiers moved an inch, except for Faliq crossing his arms. "You'll take good care of the boy," he said. It was an ice-cold order that left no room for argument. "We will both be keeping an eye on him."

"Of course, of course," the man said, looking slightly cowed. "I'm Abasi Safar, and I'll be in charge here." His pale, watery eyes flicked to the Garda. "You need not worry, he'll be well cared for here."

"You'd best make sure of it," Faliq said coldly. Christopher felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards the man for defending him.

"Thank you, Captain," he said, trying to express it in those three simple words.

"Do you want help settling in?" Kostova asked.

"No need, we can manage," Safar said, not giving Christopher a chance to accept. He held open the door. "Come along, Chris."

"Christopher," he corrected. He didn't mind Kostova or the others using his nickname, but he decided he already wasn't fond of Safar. He stepped around the man and into the foyer of the orphanage. Before Safar could follow him in, Chris gave a small salute to the two soldiers. Kostova outright smiled and returned it, while Faliq's was entirely more serious. He caught one last glimpse of them before Safar pulled the door shut.

"Put your things down, we have a bit of work before you'll get settled in," Safar said. Chris trailed after him into a study in a side room. 

Several documents were spread out on a desk. "You'll need to sign these before we can do anything else," Safar said. He held out a pen but jerked it back before Christopher could take it.

"No, wait. We must do something about that name of yours."

"My... name? What's wrong with it?"

"Everyone knows the Obscurist Magnus is Keria Morning. It's not a common surname in Alexandria, you know. We must change it, can't have anyone making the connection."

Chris didn't bother asking why.

"Do you know what you want to change it to?" Safar asked.

"No. I, ah, wasn't aware that I'd have to take a new one."

"Humph." Safar pulled out a small board. There was a wheel with dozens of names written on it secured loosely to the middle, and an arrow at the top. He gave it a spin and it whirred around, the letters blurring together. When it stopped, the arrow pointed to a single name.

_Wolfe._

"Not bad, not bad," Safar muttered. "There's your new name, boy. Christopher Wolfe."

Chris tried the name out in his head. It sounded completely wrong, but yet, something about it fit too. It wasn't the name he'd been used to. It wasn't Christopher Morning, but it would do.

He stood up a little straighter.

_My name is Christopher Wolfe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Updated Introduction-


End file.
